The Valley of Unrest
by Elithil
Summary: Inner monologue of one of the pilots. Something of a fusion with E.A.Poe's The Valley of Unrest. Might be what one calls a Deathfic. Somewhat Angsty? Oneshot '[...] Over the lilies there that wave and weep above a nameless grave! [...]'


_Disclaimer:_ I don't own Gundam Wing or its characters.

AN: Just a quick note...Lately, I've had the idea of writing something to one of Edgar A. Poe's poems and I really love the last for lines of this one. Anyway, I sat down today and wanted to write a little on my new and (hopefully) improved 'not-anymore-Pedigree Assassin' story and came up with this. I intended the narrator to be one of the pilots, but other than that you can pretty much choose who you want it to be. Well, hope it's not too weird and hope some people might enjoy it. _Elithil_**  
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**The Valley of Unrest**

_They wave :—from out their fragrant tops  
__Eternal dews come down in drops._

I see them. I watch them as they stand so near that the slightest stumbling would make them fall right on top of the bed of flowers.

But even as they gaze into their own eyes, mirrored in the dark stone, they look so…so strong. We always were the rocks to lean on for each other. People always told us that they thought nothing could bring us down. Apparently that isn't true at all.

I watch them from where I stand behind the stone. Each of them has a single white lily in their hands, which are pressed to their chests. So solemn. Every so often wistful smiles would flitter across their faces. So melancholy.

A light drizzle starts to fall, but it doesn't seem as if they notice. Gradually their hair starts to get wet, drops start to form on their faces, rolling down their cheeks and falling upon the glowing white lilies.

A light breeze moves their hair and their lilies sway lightly, waving gently, spilling small drops of water one by one over their soft petals.

My hair does not get wet. My hair remains unruffled.

_They weep :_—_from off their delicate stems  
Perennial tears descend in gems._

Very gently they lay there lilies down one bye one. They lay them so that their stems cross each other.

The blossoms gleam against emerald grass and still tiny, sparkling droplets slide down their petals and stems.

And still they stand solemnly next to each other, watching water run down the engraved, black lilies entwining around the black, nameless stone. All around the stone and the patch of green grass before it, tiny violets sprout. I imagine their fragrance mixing with that of the lilies, the fresh air and the cool rain.

I look into their eyes as they stand before me, but they don't look back.

They don't cry. They – we – used our tears up in our early childhoods. I didn't find them again, but maybe they will come back to them. I couldn't, but maybe they will be able to rid themselves of their stubborn, seeming indifference.

It's almost completely dark. I can't see the stars, but I know that there are the first ones already twinkling on the velvety sky behind the dark clouds.

As they do every time they come visit me, they turn their faces up towards the sky, silently asking the stars to watch over the flowers, to watch over me.

They turn around and walk away without another look in my direction.

But I know they will come back. And I smile.

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**The Valley of Unrest**  
_Edgar Allan Poe_  
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_Once_ it smiled a silent dell  
Where the people did not dwell ;  
They had gone unto the wars,  
Trusting to the mild-eyed stars,  
Nightly, from their azure towers,  
To keep watch above the flowers,  
In the midst of which all day  
The red sunlight lazily lay.  
_Now_ each visitor shall confess  
The sad valley's restlessness.  
Nothing there is motionless—  
Nothing save the airs that brood  
Over the magic solitude.  
Ah, by no wind are stirred those trees  
That palpitate like the chill seas  
Around the misty Hebrides !  
Ah, by no wind those clouds are driven  
That rustle through the unquiet Heaven  
Uneasily, from morn till even,  
Over the violets there that lie  
In myriad types of the human eye—  
Over the lilies there that wave  
And weep above a nameless grave !  
They wave :—from out their fragrant tops  
Eternal dews come down in drops.  
They weep :—from off their delicate stems  
Perennial tears descend in gems.


End file.
